


Those We Cherish

by Rose_ryder



Series: Those We Cherish Universe [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Universe, Dramatic Entrance, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers, Hidden Talents, M/M, Multi, Multiple Inquisitors, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Wardens, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Time Skips, Twin Hawkes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-12-11 21:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11722485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_ryder/pseuds/Rose_ryder
Summary: Arven and Ashanne Lavellan are anything but ordinary elvhen twins. This is the tale of two elves as they encounter familiar faces and end up fighting for their futures, not to mention learning about who they are and finding who they love. Briefly covers events of DA:O and DAII, but mostly set during the Inquisition. Some side stories included, multiple POVs.





	1. Prologue Act 1: Two Lavellans and A Cousland

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic here, and my first work for Dragon Age.  
> The first few chapters will be more of an introduction to my Lavellans and their lives during the events of Dragon Age Origins and Dragon Age II. As such, these chapters will most likely be shorter and faster in pace.  
> Things will (hopefully) become slower and more cohesive once time catches up to the Inquisition.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Arven and Ashanne Lavellan learn something very curious about a certain Grey Warden during her journey to end the Fifth Blight.

Arven Lavellan was a simple elf with simple priorities: to protect his twin sister Ashanne from the judgment of others and do everything he could to stop being a disappointment to his older brother Cyrril, the First of Clan Lavellan. He spent his days training for hours with whatever he could, despite his preference for a bow or two daggers. He looked after his older twin sister. She was a mage training to be a healer, one of few professions the Dalish had for skilled mages. Arven’s bond with his sister made it easier to ignore the clan members that constantly looked down on him for not being like his brother. In the same way, he knew that his sister could ignore the stares of the close-minded elves who still feared mages, and in turn feared her.

 

Everything changed when the Fifth Blight began. Arven and his sister Ashanne were fifteen at the time. Their clan traveled to the western edge of the Brecilian Forest to assist a sister clan that was troubled by werewolves. About two months after meeting up with the sister clan, Arven and Ashanne began to wonder about the conflict with the werewolves.

“Do you get a feeling that Keeper Zathrian is hiding something?” Ashanne asked one evening after supper, turning on her bedroll to face her brother. The two had retired to their tent for the evening, speaking in hushed voices to avoid the notice of any passersby.

Arven wasn’t surprised, in fact he’d had similar suspicions, “I know what you mean. Do you think it has something to do with the werewolves?”

“Of course it has to do with the werewolves,” Ashanne stated as if it were obvious, “Not only does the man seem to skirt around the topic of any retaliation – which I know the Keeper has brought up more than once from overhearing Cyrril – but…”

“Keeper Zathrian seems to be the only person that has a history with the werewolves, right?” Arven had similar curiosities as well.

Ashanne nodded, “Exactly! Have you noticed that many of the injured are higher-ranked and all of the victims are from Keeper Zathrian’s clan even though our men have gone with them more than once. Then there’s also the matter of his age. Lanaya told me herself that Zathrian is older than any of the elvhen she knows of.”

"Maybe it has something to do with the old tales of elvhen immortality?"

Ashanne shakes her head, "I don't think so. Elves haven't been immortal since before the Tevinter Imperium. If someone had discovered any of the old ways - not just immortality - then elves other than Zathrian would know of it."

“Do you think we should look into the situation?”

“Let’s wait a little while longer da’len, see if we can dig anything up around camp. We don’t exactly know these forests very well.”

“Very well, you are the older one here.”

 

A few weeks passed and the twins hadn’t been able to make much progress. Ashanne was pulled away constantly to look after the elves who continued to succumb to the werewolves’ curse and Arven was constantly training with other hunters.

“Shemlen are not welcome here,” a voice rang out one day, causing many of the elves to turn their heads. Arven traced the movement of the Dalish guards as they argued for a few minutes before guiding a group of strangers towards the Keeper’s tent. The group looked a bit odd to the young elf. There was a red-headed woman garbed in Chantry robes – the religious institution of most shemlens – followed by a man clad in Grey Warden-branded armor and a dark-haired mage with a sour expression painted on her face. All three seemed to be led by a woman with long, pale blonde hair and a set of daggers. She held herself like a shemlen of noble breeding, yet something felt familiar about the woman.

Apparently, Ashanne felt the same way because not a day had gone by when she approached the woman – apparently a Grey Warden – and struck up a conversation before Arven could pull her away. He didn’t have anything against the woman – in fact Arven was amazed at how helpful she’d been since arriving. He’d overheard some of the Warden’s conversations with different elves and she offered to help in several situations from gathering supplies for the craftsman to helping a hunter apprentice win the heart of a young woman. Arven was just worried about the Grey Warden’s reaction to Ashanne's somewhat brash nature.

“You don’t seem like an ordinary shem, Miss Warden,” Ashanne remarked after a conversation about the halla that the shem had been able to save mere moments earlier.

The woman chuckled, her eyes bright, “Please, call me Lyra. I may have been raised a noble, but I’ve never liked formalities.”

Arven cocked his head at her words, “A noble that doesn’t want to be treated as a noble?”

Lyra turned her head to him with a smile, “As your sister said, I’m not an ordinary noble, my father would often joke around about how spirited and unlike a typical noblewoman I was,” she gently glanced between the two, as if contemplating something, “Can I tell you two something?”

Arven and Ashanne exchanged looks.

“Sounds important,” Ashanne finally replied, “Is it something wrong that you can’t tell your friends?”

Arven was impressed. His sister always noticed when something was wrong – it was this natural intuition that guided her to study healing magic in the clan. In addition, she could befriend almost anyone and many confided in her. It made Arven feel almost as inferior to her as to their older brother.

Lyra chuckled, “Smart girl,” she paused for a few seconds, “It’s not that I can’t tell them – hell, Morrigan knew from the beginning. But if I did, it might complicate things further down the road, especially with Alistair.”

Alistair was the armored man amongst Lyra’s party, as Keeper Zatharian had told them. The twins had gathered that something was going on between the two of them, as Alistair stood very close to their new friend when she was speaking to Keeper Zathrian, as if challenging everyone not to mess with her. Not to mention Arven had noticed the young man glance over towards the trio more than once, smiling at Lyra as she and Ashanne chattered away. He’d caught Alistair’s eyes the fourth or fifth time – causing the shemlen to quickly look away in what Arven assumed to be embarrassment at being caught.

Lyra twiddled her fingers a bit, looking back to make sure her companions weren’t looking before pulling her hair behind her left ear, causing the twins to quietly gasp: though it was barely there, her ears had the pointed shape of an elf’s. She cautiously explained that she was half-elf, but nobody knew because her mother had hidden their heritage ever since she got married.

“Fereldens would overreact if they found out that a nobleman had an elvhen daughter, especially the high-ranking Teyrn of Highever. My brother Fergus was lucky enough to be born without any elvhen characteristics, so we just kept it hidden. While technically I could fully embrace my lineage now, I’m afraid to.”

“Because of Alistair,” Arven cautiously interjected “Are you afraid he’ll leave you if he finds out?”

Lyra stiffened slightly, “How did you know about-?”

“You and him?” Ashanne snorted softly, “The man’s looked over here six or seven times already with eyes that just scream ‘I’m in love with that woman.’ It’s adorable.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, dear sister,” Arven sighed with a teasing smirk, “Don’t forget his eyes whenever you and our dear Warden start giggling over something, they remind me of a halla fawn.”

“Maker’s breath, would you two stop!” Lyra covered her face with both hands, the tip of her uncovered ear turning a faint pink.

After a few minutes of the twins giggling and Lyra’s mortification settling down, Arven returned to the original situation, “So, _are_ you afraid?”

Lyra shook her head. “Not quite. It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

 Arven and Ashanne listened closely as she recounted her journey up until then. After the tragedy at Ostagar a few months back, she had traveled to a human village called Redcliffe where she and her friends defended the town from undead corpses unleashed by an untrained mage. They saved the boy named Connor after gaining help from the Circle of Magi, but couldn’t wake Arl Eamon, the reckless mage’s father. That led them to retrieve the Sacred Ashes of Andraste from a temple in the Frostback Mountains guarded by dragon cultists. After they revived the arl, it was decided that a Landsmeet would be held amongst the human nobles in attempt to dethrone Loghain, the father of Queen Anora and the man who betrayed the Grey Wardens at Ostagar. Arl Eamon had every intention to put Alistair on the throne, as he was the half-brother of the late King Cailan.

“Alistair would refuse the crown if it meant giving up on me,” Lyra gave a tired smile, “If I keep my elvhen lineage a secret, we can stay together because I’m a noble. I don’t want to tell him, not yet at least. It doesn’t help that I don’t know if my brother is still alive or not. He was supposed to be at Ostagar fighting on the front lines, but I didn’t see him at the camp or in the Korcari Wilds.”

The twins could tell that Lyra had given the matter serious thought. After all, relations between humans and elves were tolerable at best. Some elves would kill any shemlen who entered Dalish territory armed and unannounced, and humans still treated city elves like slaves and saw the Dalish as barbarians. To make matters worse, Lyra’s family had recently been killed by a human called Rendon Howe.

“What will you do if he becomes king?” Ashanne asked curiously.

Lyra shrugged, “I have no idea. First, we have to take care of the conflict between your people and the werewolves. Then, we have to secure an alliance with the dwarves in Orzammar and hope that it's enough to survive the Blight. Don’t even get me started on hunting down Howe, the traitorous bastard.”

Arven jumped back in, rewording his clever sister’s question, “I think Ashanne was wondering what you would do when – not if – you become his queen. Will you keep your identity a secret then?” He was wondering too. If there was any hope for Ferelden, it would be in this woman’s hands as the future ruler of the kingdom.

Lyra was silent for a moment, then chuckled softly. “Who knows? I could hardly stand being a nobleman’s daughter, much less the wife of a king. I think Alistair already knows I’m hiding something from him. He’s bound to find out soon. If he takes me as a noble after learning the truth, I’ll only wish that the people can think of me not as a half-elf, but as a woman prepared to stand by their king’s side.” A faint blush painted Lyra Cousland’s cheeks at the thought of marrying her beloved.

Arven and Ashanne tried to go with Lyra and company to resolve the werewolf conflict. Unfortunately, they did not succeed. They were stopped by Cyrril, who was in a very sour mood after learning that a good friend of his had recently disappeared and was presumed to have died from the blight. The twins barely had the chance to warn Lyra and company about their suspicions regarding Keeper Zathrian before Cyrril pushed so many duties on the twins that they missed both the success and departure of their newest friend.

It came as no surprise to the twins that Lyra Cousland’s hopes eventually became reality. Only one year later, it was known that the Blight had ended and Ferelden had a new king. Not only that, but King Alistair would soon have a queen. 

Lyra became known as the Hero of Ferelden after personally slaying the Archdemon, and her title was enough for her to rule by King Alistair’s side without much opposition concerning her half-elf nature (at least, no opposition that had reached the ears of the Dalish). Some of her first actions as queen included improving conditions in the Elven Alienages, beginning with Denerim, and attempting to quell the ill-founded rumors cast upon the nomadic Dalish elves. She also gained the trust of the elves and the dwarves as races, a feat unprecedented by past rulers of Ferelden.

Progress was being made on the relations between the different races. It did not happen quickly, but it was certainly there.

It seemed like life was returning to normal. There was no fear of curses or darkspawn attacks, so Clan Lavellan returned to their land in the Exalted Plains. Arven was deeply affected by Lyra’s actions. She was brave, despite judgment from elves, dwarves, and humans alike. It inspired the now-sixteen elf. He tried even harder to catch up to his brother than he had before. However, his goals were put on hold when Ashanne learned something that would change the twins’ lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arven and Ashanne are my Lavellans. They're precious and I love them to bits. Some of the things I say about them - particularly Ashanne - might sound a bit cryptic and there's a reason for it. I'm not accidentally being vague, I swear.  
> Obviously, there isn't a choice for a Warden to be half-something, but after encountering Feynriel in DA II, I just couldn't let go of my preferences for both the elves and the ending where my Warden becomes queen with Alistair.  
> For those who don't know, shem/shemlen is the elvhen term for human.  
> There is a bit of summarizing in terms of events because I know there are readers who haven't played all the games or haven't made the same choices I did (such as my Warden's choice to go to the Circle instead of killing Isolde or Connor).


	2. Prologue Act 2: The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird things start happening to Ashanne Lavellan, leading her and her brother to make some very tough decisions.

It was about three months after the Fifth Blight when the visions began. They started with simple things – incidents that happened before Ashanne realized that she was seeing things that hadn’t happened yet. She’d never heard of a mage – or anyone else – being able to see into the future. There was the Fade, sure, but that could only reveal events of the past.

At first, that’s all she thought she was seeing. She thought that the visions were things that had already happened, like someone finding an injured halla or one of the hunters falling ill. The fact that they happened again within days of her seeing the events in her dreams was nothing but mere coincidence.

The visions carried on for several months before Ashanne began to realize that they foretold events yet to pass. 

Her first clue was when they started happening while she was awake. A vision struck her midday during Clan Lavellan’s journey back to the Exalted Plains. The clan was nearly past the Frostback Mountains, only a few weeks from the settlement they called home. The voyage had been going well since the weather had calmed down from a blizzard to a soft flurry. 

While approaching the peak of a relatively steep incline, Ashanne doubled over in pain. Her head felt as if she’d been struck by a blunt, heavy object.

_“Look out!”_

_“The straps broke! Someone stop it!”_

_“…before it falls off the cliff!”_

_“…bind the sails!”_

Images swirled through Ashanne’s head. A harnessed halla without cargo. An aravel rolling down the slope. Several Dalish running to stop it. Broken leather straps lying in a bed of snow. Ice. Lightning. It felt so intense, so real to the Dalish teenager.

“Ashanne!” At the sound of her name, she looked up to see her other half rush over and lean down in front of her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Arven watched her with worry in his eyes.  _Of course he’d worry._ Ashanne sighed and pushed herself upward. “Ir abelas, I’m fine. Just a heada– ”

“Look out!” a cry broke out and stopped her mid-sentence.

Ashanne watched in horror as an aravel – from the size, possibly the craftsman’s – rolled down the snowy slopes and her vision became a reality.

“The strap broke!” Lyndal, one of the hunters cried out, “Someone stop it!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Ashanne leaped forward with her staff at hand. She made her best effort to slow the aravel, casting a wall of ice in front of it with all the magic she could muster.

Arven saw what Ashanne was doing and realized that her ice wall alone wouldn’t be enough. “We need to stop the aravel before it flies off a cliff!” he shouted, grabbing large bundles of rope from another aravel and tossing them to several hunters.

“Cyrril! Bind the sails!” Ashanne called out to their older brother, who was uncharacteristically frozen in shock. It briefly occurred to the young mage that the way she’d jumped into action may have shattered her reputation as a gentle and passive healer’s apprentice. “Now!” she shouted again, feeling the ice cracking under the aravel’s weight.

Cyrril snapped out of his stupor. He lashed out with whips of lightning to close the sails, drastically decreasing the caravan’s speed long enough for the hunters to regain control with the rope.

When Ashanne was confident that the aravel was secure, she climbed up the slope to where Mirabela, the Halla Keeper, was calming down the halla that had been pulling the damn thing. “Is she okay?”

“Ma serannas lethallen, I believe she’s just spooked. The aravel shouldn’t have broken free; it’s a miracle the halla wasn’t plowed over,” Mirabela replied, tenderly stroking the poor creature.

After close observation, the craftsman, a silver-haired elf named Maharon, found the cause of the separation between the halla and her cargo. Luckily, there was no hint of deliberate sabotage. The thick leather bindings were simply so worn that they had snapped.

“Fenedhis! What was that?”

Ashanne cringed as she turned to face a familiar sight, “What was what, brother dearest?”

“Don’t patronize me! What possessed you to jump into such danger? You should have left the situation to us!” Cyrril barked at the younger elf.

Ashanne’s cringe turned into a glower, “Tel’abelas,” she proudly claimed, voice turning into a low growl, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a child anymore! I didn’t see anyone else jumping to stop the aravel.”

“That is not the point, Ashanne! It was ill-conceived and – !”

“This is not the place to discuss such things, Cyrril.” A new voice entered the fray. “Your sister’s quick thinking may have prevented a disaster. She did the right thing, and no one was hurt. That is all that matters.”

“Keeper Deshanna!” Cyrril quickly bowed his head in respect, “Ir abelas, I did not think of it that way,” he apologized, mouth tight in a manner that just breathed annoyance.

The aged woman turned to Ashanne, much to her surprise, and gave her a short nod. “Ma serannas, da’len.”

The craftsman forged a new strap for the halla’s harness and the aravels began moving once more. 

The incident was resolved now, but Ashanne could not stop thinking about what had happened mere moments before.

_What is happening to me? I saw the aravel breaking free and then it happened. That can’t be. I just…um…_

The event continued to bother the Dalish mage as the clan travelled on.

 

Clan Lavellan reached the Exalted Plains less than a month later, but Ashanne still hadn’t come to terms with what happened in the mountains.

“Hey,” Ashanne looked up to see her brother peeking inside her tent one afternoon.

Arven Lavellan was always a pleasant sight for the copper-haired elf. “How’s everyone settling in? Sorry I haven’t been out much,” Ashanne apologized with a soft smile.

Arven chuckled, joining his twin on the floor of the tent. “Everyone seems well enough. Many of the young ones are excited to see home again.”

“Remember us back when we were their age?”

“Ah yes, where did we go that one year?”

“Hmmm,” Ashanne paused to think, “I believe it was Wycome.”

A smile grew on Arven’s face. “It was! The yearly trip up to the Free Marches for trading!”

“Didn’t someone blow something up?” Ashanne asked, hiding a small smirk.

“Blow something up?” her brother replied incredulously. “You nearly set the Keeper’s aravel on fire!”

Laughter tumbled from Ashanne’s mouth. “Oh, right! Remember that look on Cyrril’s face?”

“How could I not? He was sending death glares at both of us for the entire journey home. If it weren’t for Keeper Deshanna, Cyrril would probably have been willing to leave you in Wycome! Even without telling Mother and Father!”

Both twins roared with laughter, remembering the day Ashanne’s magic manifested. The twins were playing with some of the other elvhen children when the elder twin tumbled into the large aravel in the center of camp. She attempted to cushion her fall with outstretched arms, but instead managed to create a burst of fire that could have engulfed the aravel in a matter of minutes.

“Anyway,” Arven interceded after both had managed to stop laughing, “I’m worried about you. You’ve been awfully withdrawn since the incident in the Frostbacks. What happened back there?”

There was no immediate response. Ashanne tried to think of a way to explain what had happened, but the only explanation that came to mind sounded like the ravings of a deranged hermit.

“It’s…kind of hard to explain,” the mage finally replied. “I don’t really understand what happened myself.”

“Take your time then,” her brother replied with an encouraging smile. “I might not understand everything, but I’ll do my best.”

Ashanne nodded her head slightly. “You know how mages, especially dreamers, can see the past in the Fade?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you…I dunno…have you ever heard of someone being able to see the future?”

Ashanne watched her brother’s reaction carefully, relieved to see him thinking instead of looking at her like she was mad.

“You’d know better than I that nobody – mage or otherwise – has ever claimed to see the future,” Arven replied. He paused for a moment, reconsidering. “Except for that one shem back in Ferelden. Leliana, right?”

“Yes, that was her name,” Ashanne replied, remembering the Chantry girl that travelled with their friend Lyra during the Blight, “but she claimed that the Maker gave her visions of oncoming darkness.”

“So, I’m guessing what you’re talking about is different from that?”

Ashanne nodded, “Much more specific.”

An eyebrow raise was the elvhen twin’s only response as he waited for her to elaborate.

“Back in the mountains, something happened to me,” she began, “it’s probably happened more often than I’d like the admit, but this was the first time I couldn’t explain it away by some other means. Remember that headache I had?”

“Of course I do. It scared me half to death.”

“It was…more than just a headache,” Ashanne admitted, her hands twisting around an old rag that she’d absently grabbed onto at some point. “I didn’t want to believe it, but… I saw the aravel break loose. I heard everyone shouting. The entire scene played out in my head – before it happened!”

Arven’s hand weighed down on top of Ashanne’s, and she realized her grip was so tight that she was slowly tearing the rag apart. “Calm down, Ash,” he said gently.

“Sorry,” Ashanne apologized, taking a deep breath before continuing. “These visions? They started happening a few months ago, sometime between when we left the Brecilian Forest and when we arrived at Wycome. They were small things – someone getting sick, someone wandering off, an injured halla – things that happen so often that I didn’t realize that they hadn’t happened yet. Not to mention, the visions only occurred when I was asleep, several days or weeks before the events I saw actually happened.”

There was no immediate response from the younger twin. Ashanne dared to look up, terrified at the thought that her brother would not believe her, but her fears were unnecessary. Arven’s face did not hold a look of disgust or contempt, but one of contemplation. He seemed to be taking Ashanne’s words seriously. Ashanne hoped she wasn’t just seeing what she wanted to see.

“Have you mentioned this to anyone else?” Arven finally responded.

Ashanne quickly shook her head. “No, and I don’t plan to. It’s bad enough that I’m a dreamer. Cyrril is constantly paranoid that I’m going to challenge him for his position based on that alone. I don’t want to give him any more reason to cast me out.”

“Fair enough,” Arven replied, head tilted slightly. “What do you want to do about it?”

Ashanne paused, asking the same question of herself. What _did_  she want to do about this? Nobody in the clans knew how to handle a prophet, nor would any human Circle – not that she would ever subject herself to that form of imprisonment. She heard stories once in a while, either from a wandering apostate or a parent grieving over the Circle’s possession of their child. The Circle wasn’t exactly evil, but it granted very little freedom to those with magic.

“Nothing, for now,” the mage finally replied. “If I say anything – to anyone – Cyrril will hear about it and send me away. The situation was hard enough before these visions, if I were to leave – ”

“You won’t have to do that,” Arven interrupted swiftly, knowing each of Ashanne’s fears as if they were his own.

_Who am I kidding?_  Ashanne thought with a sad smile,  _most of my fears are his as well._

 

The twins fell back into their usual rhythms of healing and hunting, never speaking a word of what happened back in the mountains. Every now and again, Ashanne would have another “premonition,” as she began to call them. Most of them followed the pattern of her earlier visions, occurring in dreams days before an event. However, things were different from then on. Ashanne knew now that she wasn’t seeing the past, and when she could, the elf would do her best to either prevent the event or reduce the damage when it did happen. Arven helped her to discreetly protect the clan. She told him about her premonitions the evenings after everyone had retired to their tents. He kept a lookout for subtle signs that came before the events she foretold and followed his sister’s counsel on what she thought could be done.

At first, the twins’ strategy worked beautifully. The two were able to keep an eye on the clan without creating suspicion, and Ashanne grew used to her strange ability. She had no way of controlling what she had visions about or when they came to her, but she did have control over her actions afterwards. Things were going well in Clan Lavellan.

 This peaceful existence continued until almost a year after the Fifth Blight. That night, Ashanne had a vision that changed everything.

_The first thing Ashanne noticed was ivy growing out of worn bricks. Ruins, the elf guessed. It appeared to be midday by the way the sun lit up the cracks in the walls. There was a residue of unfamiliar green magic hanging in the air. The Veil was thin in this place, thinner than she’d ever seen it before._

_“No! Don’t do this to me!”_

_Her green eyes widened at the familiar voice as Ashanne whipped around._

_Sitting there, in a large pool of water, was Arven, her beloved twin. He looked older. His hair was longer and unkempt. There was some sort of insignia on the cloak he wore, but she didn’t recognize it. His age, however, was not the most shocking aspect of the strange vision. It was the body hanging limp in her brother’s arms._

_“No,” Ashanne gasped, “It can’t be…”_

_The lifeless body was a young elvhen woman with long, copper hair and a face Ashanne would know anywhere._

_It was her._

“NO!”

Ashanne woke up with a start, panting and gasping. She flailed around, touching different parts of her body as if to reassure herself that she was still alive.

Taking a deep breath, the elf grabbed a cloak resting by her bedroll and stumbled out of her tent, desperate for fresh air. She ran until she reached the banks of the river just east of the clan’s settlement, chest heaving and mind racing. She tried to gain control of herself and hold back the tears that pushed against her eyelids. There was no way what she had seen was real. It couldn’t be.

“Ash?”

She cocked her head to see Arven walking towards her, saying naught a word for fear that she would crack. He must have woken up to her screaming.

Her brother kneeled beside her. “Did something happen? You seemed to be having a nightmare, but the way you stumbled out made me think…”

“It,” the elvhen mage choked out, “it was another vision.”

“What was it this time? I’ve never seen you so rattled.”

Ashanne pulled her cloak closer to her, “I… saw myself.” Tears slowly broke free, sliding down her cheeks. “You were there. I…”

“Slow down,” her counterpart soothed the trembling elf.

Ashanne took a deep breath and told Arven about what she saw. The dilapidated ruins. An older version of Arven, and herself.

“I was dead,” Ashanne finally revealed, “I saw myself dead in your arms. The look on your face…” It haunted her. Arven Lavellan was known to be very composed, yet the Arven in her vision was wild and terrified. “I must have been dead.”

“What happened?”

Ashanne shook her head, “I don’t know. You were crying and screaming, begging for me to wake up, and I was too shocked to pay attention to anything else.”

Arven draped his arm around his sister’s shoulders and pulled her to him, letting her release all of her tears of frustration and fear without waking up the rest of the clan. They sat there for what felt like hours, contemplating the extent of what the vision could mean for them.

“I can’t stay here,” the female elf finally said.

Arven turned to her in alarm. “What are you talking about? You want to leave?”

He felt her nod into his shoulder. “I need to find a way to stop my vision from coming true, but I can’t do that here. Not with everyone watching my actions.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?” Arven raised his eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, no,” Ashanne replied. “Ever since the incident in the mountains, Cyrril’s been keeping an eye on me constantly. Some of the others are beginning to notice our timely responses to emergencies and accidents. Besides that, any cure to be found is beyond the magic we know. I’ll have to experiment, and Cyrril would never be able to tolerate that.”

“Then I’m going with you,” Arven decided, slowly getting to his feet. “Before you say anything, you should know I won’t allow you to leave without me. Especially since…” He slowly trailed off.

Ashanne grimaced slightly. “It might be dangerous. I can’t in good conscience put you in harm’s way.”

“We’re Dalish,” Arven reached out a hand to pull his sister up, “We live in the wilderness, and nature isn’t exactly the most reliable ally.”

“True,” Ashanne smiled and chuckled softly, “I guess we should start planning then. Where should we go first?”

 

The twins spent the next few days preparing as much as they could while remaining under the clan’s radar. Arven secretly collected whatever herbs he could find when he scouted with the other elves: anything from elfroot to black lotus. Ashanne made more tonics and poultices than her senior healer requested of her under the guise of practicing her herbalism. Unbeknownst to anyone, she smuggled all of these potions – along with a few vials of poison and lyrium – into a hollow tree behind the twins’ tent. 

In the evenings, the two worked by candlelight on putting together their satchels. Ashanne found a bit of magic in a hand-me-down spellbook that could be used to shrink down medium sized items like books, along with a spell to preserve whatever herbs and rations they were able to sneak away with.

“No wonder the healers seem to pull poultices out of thin air,” Ashanne muttered as she casted a charm on a small silk pouch that allowed more room for small items. The twins were almost prepared for their journey. That particular evening, they were concentrating on tools they would need immediately, such as healing tinctures and small, easily concealable weapons.

Arven chuckled as he sharpened a few of his smaller hunting knives. “If only that magic of yours could fit a tent and our bed rolls into that little bag as well.” He gestured to the small bag.

“If magic could do that, the halla wouldn’t have to pull the clan’s aravels,” Ashanne scoffed, knowing that even domestic magic like the spatial spell had its limits.

Grabbing his boots, Arven tucked a couple of his knives into a concealed sheath just inside the boot itself. “Do you think we’re ready for this, Ash? Going out on our own? We aren’t even of age yet.”

“I think we are.” Ashanne smiled softly. “You give yourself too little credit, da’len. You’re one of the best hunters in this clan, and I’m a mage with a library of spells at my fingertips. It won’t be easy, especially since I have no clue what we’re supposed to be looking for, but we can do this.”

 

Two days later, the twins got up before sunrise to pack up their tent and gather their things before the rest of the clan woke up.

“Is that everything?” Ashanne asked, tucking a medium-sized dagger in her thigh sheath before straightening out her cloak. She walked over to her brother, who had checked and double checked their supplies to make sure they had everything they might need.

To the elvhen woman’s relief, her brother nodded. “Nothing seems to be missing; I think we’re ready.”

“Ready for what, might I ask?”

The twins flinched in unison, trading glances as if to say  _Here comes the hard part._

Cyrril and Keeper Deshanna walked over to the two siblings, a suspicious frown painting Cyrril’s face. “What’s going on here?” he barked. “Arven? Ashanne?”

Ashanne took a deep breath and turned to her elder brother. “We’re leaving, Cyrril.”

Cyrril’s suspicion gave way to absolute disbelief. “You’re what?!” Many of the newly-awakened elves hovered near the small group to see what caused the First to raise his voice so suddenly.

“Calm down, da’len.” Keeper Deshanna placed a hand on the eldest sibling’s shoulder, turning towards the younger twin with a raised brow. “Is this true?”

“It’s as she said, Keeper,” Arven spoke coolly, slinging his quiver over his right shoulder. “We’re leaving the clan.”

“I assume you have a reason for this departure,” Keeper Deshanna responded with a tone void of judgement.

“Indeed we do. However…” Ashanne bit her lip softly. “It is of a personal nature. Arven and I want to see more of Thedas before we come of age,” she explained, spinning the lie both she and her brother had agreed upon when they first started their preparations.

Cyrril objected, as was his nature. “That is no reason! You are both too young and too inexperienced to travel alone.”

“That is not your decision to make,  _brother_ ,” Arven snapped. “I am one of the strongest hunters in this clan and Ash is a powerful mage like you. The incident in the Frostback Mountains proved it. We know the risks, but we also know that what we have to gain is worth it.”

Cyrril’s eyes narrowed at Arven’s disrespect, but Keeper Deshanna kept him steady.

“Please, Keeper,” Ashanne began. She stepped forward, holding a hand in front of her brother’s chest, eyes begging for their leader’s acceptance. “This is a decision we made – a decision we don’t take lightly.”

“Very well.” the Keeper smiled, stepping in front of the mage. “Although I am not entirely happy about the prospect of you two leaving. Wherever you go, know that this is your clan.”

The twins beamed at the Dalish leader. “Ma serannas, Keeper Deshanna.”

“Mythal’s mercy!” Cyrril interrupted, pulling away from the Keeper. “No way I am going to let my kid siblings suddenly leave the clan. You don’t even have your vallaslin! Keeper, how can you allow this?”

“Your siblings are not children anymore, Cyrril.” Keeper Deshanna glanced at the nearly-seething elf. “Can you not trust them to choose their own paths?”

Ashanne watched as her brother’s eyes widened considerably at the Keeper’s admonition. If Cyrril couldn’t trust his own family, how could he be expected to garner the trust of Clan Lavellan? His outrage soon faded to a resigned scowl as he realized that he was fighting a losing battle.

“Is it true?” a small elf pulled at Ashanne’s forest green cloak. “Are you leaving, Healer Ashanne?”

The elven mage smiled softly and bent down to the child’s level. “I’m afraid so, lethallan. Do not worry, my brother and I won’t be gone forever.” She recognized the young elf as Maelyn, a girl who was beginning to show signs of magic. The twins’ departure meant that this child could stay in the clan and grow up with her parents. The thought gave Ashanne courage.

Slowly, each member of Clan Lavellan said their farewells to the twins, offering them prayers and good wishes. The clan’s craftsman gave them each a small amulet made of ironbark, blessed with a Dalish rite of protection. Mirabela, the halla keeper, gave both of the twins a brief hug, wishing them best of luck. The healer offered Ashanne a small supply of rare herbs and recipe scrolls. Several of the hunters clapped Arven solidly on the back, making light jests on how they wouldn’t survive without his mother hen mentality (at which each of them got a playful slap from said elf).

The twins were accompanied to the edge of camp by Keeper Deshanna and Cyrril, who clearly still hadn’t come to terms with their sudden departure.

“Dareth shiral, may the gods protect you.” Keeper Deshanna gave the two elves a small, respectful bow. “Remember that this is your family, and as such we will always be ready should you need us.”

Ashanne and her brother returned the gesture, thanking their Keeper for everything she’d done for them. Then the aging woman made her way back to the camp, leaving the twins with Cyrril.

Cyrril sighed with disapproval. “I cannot accept your actions, but I also cannot stop you,” he said solemnly.

“This isn’t goodbye.” Ashanne attempted to reassure her eldest sibling, trying one last time to earn his respect.

The elder mage shook his head with a soft but noticeable glare. “Dirthara-ma, da’len,” and turned around to follow the Keeper’s lead without looking back.

Ashanne and Arven exchanged glances.

“This is it then?” Arven sighs, looking at his sister with a raised eyebrow.

Ashanne nods and readjusts the straps on her knapsack, “It won’t be forever. We’ll be back.”

“So it begins,” her brother stated. With that, the twins set out on their journey. Neither knew how long their adventure would last, nor where it would lead them. However, they did know one thing for sure: they had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am being intentionally vague in places. Don't hurt me >.<  
> Also, I am taking some personal liberties with domestic magic because I just don't believe that mages can only use magic for fighting and healing and such (I'm using sources like Harry Potter for minor inspiration).  
> Lightning can become a whip for pride demons, therefore it is feasible for mages to use elemental magic for similar means.  
> I really appreciate everyone who has read my story so far and to the three who left me kudos: Thank you so much! Feel free to leave comments, I would really love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Next Time on Those We Cherish: The twins have been traveling for almost three years now and find themselves in the Free Marches. Things get interesting when they gain two unforeseen companions and meet an interesting group of characters.


	3. Prologue Act 3 Part 1: A Pup and An Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins have started out on their journey to find themselves making camp in the Free Marches. An encounter with another clan introduces the twins to a new friend with a very interesting characteristic.

Arven Lavellan didn’t know what to expect when he chose to leave his clan alongside his twin sister. The elf had suspected they wouldn’t even make it a month on their own. Yet here they were, almost three years later, still traveling side-by-side across Thedas.

When Arven and Ashanne left the Exalted Plains, they didn’t know where to start looking for a way to stop Ashanne’s vision from happening. After one year, all they’d figured out was that there were disadvantages to leaving the clan before their coming of age.

Without the vallaslin, other Dalish clans were hesitant to allow the twins into their encampments. Unmarked elves could simply be city elves wishing to join the Dalish, but they could also be servants sent by their human masters to spy on the wild clans. Luckily, the clans’ Keepers often recognized them because Clan Lavellan was so well known. It was daunting at first, but the twins learned how to handle the situation rather quickly. Since they rarely stayed in one place very long, they got plenty of practice.

Clan Lavellan’s good reputation was also the reason that the twins were allowed to camp near a clan residing in the Free Marches two years later. The Sabrae Clan had always been on friendly terms with the twins’ clan, but they all but withdrew shortly before the Fifth Blight. Tragedy struck the clan mere weeks before the Blight began spreading in Ferelden. Tamlen, a brave hunter and one of Cyrril’s good friends, was killed. In response, Keeper Marethari moved the clan northward. They were currently settled in Sundermount, a spans of wilderness not far from Kirkwall –one of the largest cities in the Free Marches.

“Thank you, Keeper Marethari, for allowing us to stay near your encampment.” Ashanne nodded gratefully to the wizened Keeper of the Sabrae Clan. The woman was tall by elvhen standards and marked with Mythal’s vallaslin. 

She returned Ashanne’s thanks with a motherly smile, “I only wish there was more we could do for the both of you. We lost our halla not long after our relocation, and our First, Merrill, has recently departed.”

“Departed?” Arven questioned, “Where did she go?”

The mage furrowed her brows, “I am afraid Merrill has ventured to Kirkwall. She wished to learn more of the outside world.”

The Dalish rogue could tell that wasn’t all to Keeper Marethari’s story, but knew it wasn’t their place to pry. At least, not for the time being.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” Arven watched as his sister slowly reentered the conversation, “Would your craftsman consider teaching me how to repair armor? The armorsmiths in human villages are not inclined to teach a wild barbarian their trades, and I’ve heard amazing things about Master Ilen.”

Arven remembered the tattered mess back at their camp that was once their strongest traveling cloaks and armor. Their current gear was a rather bulky set they purchased before the trip across the Waking Sea. Neither twin had learned how to sew during their years in the clan because Clan Lavellan’s craftsman was in charge of keeping everyone clothed and protected.

“I’m sure Ilen would be glad to help,” Keeper Marethari smiled and gave a curt nod, “Shall we go ask?”

Arven watched his sister nod fervently, “I would very much like to, yes.”

“I’ll hang back,” Arven responded as the Sabrae Keeper and his sister begin walking towards a large aravel to one side of the encampment.

Ashanne raised a brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah, might as well get a feel of the place.”

His sister shrugged her shoulders and followed the Keeper.

Arven took the time to glance around the Sabrae clan’s camp. Last time he had seen the Sabrae clan, it was from a distance as he patrolled with Clan Lavellan’s hunters at the base of the Frostback Mountains. The base of camp was a large, relatively level clearing south of the cave network connecting several regions of Sundermount – according to the twins’ various maps of the Free Marches. 

“Everything work out?”

The Dalish rogue turned towards the voice, “Yeah, Keeper Marethari gave my sister and I permission to camp nearby.”

The owner of the voice was Fenarel, one of the hunters of the clan. Arven knew the elf from shared patrols and was glad to see a familiar face. “What made two members of Clan Lavellan decide to venture here?” Fenarel asked.

“We had our reasons,” Arven vaguely responded. “There were some rumors about your clan being up here. Ashanne was curious about the region so we decided now was as good a time as any.”

“Well, you won’t find much out here,” a third voice entered the fray.

Fenarel gave a slight smirk towards the newest member of their conversation, “Just because there aren’t any darkspawn here doesn’t mean there isn’t much going on at all.”

_ Darkspawn? _

Arven gave Fenarel a quizzical stare.

The Sabrae hunter chuckled, “Lavellan, this is Feris Mahariel. He’s one of our best warriors. However, he’s a bit obsessed with darkspawn.”

“Shut up,” the brunette elf complained, shoving Fenarel playfully, “I’m Mahariel,” he held out a hand towards Arven, “Don’t pay any mind to this idiot.”

The male twin chuckled and gripped the warrior’s hand firmly, “No harm, no foul. I’m Arven.”

“Hey Fenarel!” The trio turned towards a group of elves calling out to the blonde elf, “We need your help with something!”

“Be right there!” the blonde replied, “Talk to you later, Lavellan. It seems I’ve been summoned.”

Arven observed the brunette warrior. He was slightly taller than the Arven and had a light scar across the left side of his forehead. He decided he might as well strike up a conversation. “So, what did Fenarel mean when he said you’re obsessed with darkspawn?”

Feris chuckled nervously. “I’m not obsessed with darkspawn. I’m trying to learn more about the taint they carry.”

“Why?”

The warrior bit his lower lip. “What do you know about Tamlen?”

“He was good friends with my older brother and died right before the Blight. That’s all anyone would say.”

“Then it’s probably better if we don’t talk about it now; the clan is still bitter about the whole situation. They won’t admit it, but I’m pretty sure they think I’m to blame for his death.”

“But you don't think so?” Arven asked.

“Not exactly. It's complicated, and there's still so much I don't know.”

“Come by our camp then,” Arven responded. “Ash and I know a thing or two about feeling cast out and wanting to learn more about things we don’t understand.”

That caught the Dalish warrior’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“We didn’t just leave our clan spontaneously,” Arven gave a small, lopsided smile. “The three of us may have more in common than you think.”

 

Later that evening, the twins returned to their makeshift camp. It wasn’t much in comparison to the Dalish encampments, but the small clearing composed of a tent, campfire, and makeshift bench made of an old log was enough for the two elves.

“So this is your camp?”

Feris Mahariel joined the two after Ashanne’s lessons with Master Ilen on their trip back to camp.

“It’s not much, but for now it’s home,” Ashanne responded, setting down the satchel of crafting materials Master Ilen had given her.

“There’s only so much we can carry between us,” Arven mentioned, arranging logs and kindling in the fire pit.

Suddenly, a rustling sound echoed through the small camp.

“What was that?!” Feris jumped back, reaching for the handle of his greatsword.

Ashanne placed a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, “Calm down, it’s just--”

Before the mage could finish her statement, a ball of fluff came barreling down on Arven, who was still bent over the pile of logs, and promptly toppled him over.

“Down boy, down!” Arven shouted, giggling uncontrollably. “Stop licking me!”

“Is that a wolf?!” the warrior exclaimed, wide-eyed at the sight of the small silver-haired wolf pup clambering all over the male twin.

“Yeah,” Arven replied once the pup settled down. “This is Fen.”

“We saved him from a group of shemlens in the Ferelden Coastlands. We didn't know the little guy would decide to follow us all the way here.” Ashanne sauntered over to her brother, petting the small animal in his arms.

Feris raised an eyebrow, making Arven chuckle. “He snuck inside my satchel before we crossed the Waking Sea. We were about halfway here when he poked his fluffy little head out.”

“And…you just decided to bring him along?” Feris watched the wolf carefully.

“Well, we couldn’t just leave him,” Ashanne pointed out, “Not to mention, he wouldn’t leave my brother alone.”

“Oh, like you were so hesitant to bring him along,” the younger twin complained. “Oh isn’t he precious, Arven? C’mon, he followed us all the way here!” 

Ashanne pursed her lips, “I do not sound like that!”

“You so do!”

Fen the wolf watched the exchange between his two elves before turning his attention to the interesting new person they’d brought with them. He clambered out of Arven’s lap and sniffed at Feris’s leg.

“Um, Lavellan, what is he doing?”

Arven watched his little companion. “Just checking you out. Don’t worry, he did the same thing to us back in Ferelden. I think he likes you.”

The pup yipped enthusiastically, as if agreeing with him.

“Hmmm,” Feris murmured before hesitantly scratching Fen’s head, earning him a playful nip at his fingers.

The twins returned to making the fire, secretly glad to have someone to keep their little wolf distracted long enough for embers to rise from the stack of wood and kindling.

“So, what happened with Tamlen?” Arven suddenly asked, “You said something about the clan blaming you.”

Feris’ eyes darkened. “The clan blames me because I was with Tamlen when he died.” He shuffled around into a comfortable sitting position. “He and I were investigating some ruins a group of shemlen told us about. I kept telling him we should turn back and tell the Keeper, but Tamlen was too stubborn.” The warrior elf’s fists clenched tightly. “And then he just had to go and touch that Creators’ be damned mirror!”

“Mirror?” the twins asked in unison.

“Keeper Marethari called it an eluvian, an ancient elvhen artifact used as a portal. We came upon it in the heart of the ruins and Tamlen was bewitched by the damn thing. I tried to pull it away, but a single touch from that idiot’s hand was enough for the mirror to go insane.”

“What happened then?” Ashanne asked, concern painting both twins’ faces.

Feris shook his head. “I’m not sure. The blast knocked me out and I woke up in camp. When I confronted the Keeper, she told me about the eluvian. She also told me that Tamlen was nowhere to be found. I insisted we search for him. Fenarel, Merrill, and I searched the ruins and surrounding area for nearly two days, and Merrill discovered a shattered fragment of the artifact and brought it back to the clan,” the warrior scratched at the back of his neck. “Keeper Marethari told us to give up once she saw the shard. Said that Tamlen was dead or as good as and that it was a miracle I survived. Turns out I have some weird immunity to the darkspawn taint, because the mirror should have killed me too.”

“Is your immunity the reason you’re researching it?” Arven asked, piecing together Feris’ story and Fenarel’s comments back in the Dalish camp.

Feris nodded his head. “I’ve never heard of anyone being immune besides me. I want to understand. I need to know why Tamlen died and I didn’t!” His voice was getting shakier by the second. “It doesn’t help that all of the information on darkspawn is either centuries old or in the dwarven kingdom. So long as I don’t know how I survived, I have to suffer the gazes of my clansmen who think I had something to do with Tamlen’s death.”

Fen whimpered at the warrior’s side, licking the elf’s hand to comfort him.

“We do seem to have a lot in common,” Ashanne mused, leaning back to look up at the sky.

The corner of Arven’s mouth lifted slightly, curling into a half-hearted smile. “We all want to know more and we’re all held back by the clans’ wishes.” Fen clambered over to the elvhen rogue, who lifted the pup into his lap and began stroking his head.

“You have to give them credit though,” Feris added in, “Elves have been through so much. They’re just trying to preserve our culture.”

“But at what risk?” Ashanne murmured, adjusting her head to watch the dancing embers with dark eyes. After travelling on their own for the past few years, Arven knew that his sister had a certain outrage about practices within the clans. She never told him what exactly, but the rogue knew it had something to do with her connection to the Fade.

The trio fell into silence, although every now and then someone would ask a question about the twins’ journeys or the Sabrae clan. When the moon hit its peak in the abyssal sky, Feris Mahariel got up and left the small campsite with promises to join the twins and their wolf pup again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the first part to what was originally one chapter. My beta suggested dividing the chapter because there was just so much.  
> As you probably guessed, Feris is based on the Dalish Origins in Dragon Age Origins. He is simply the first of my characters based on the other Origin stories (i.e. the origins aside from the Human Noble, since Lyra is my canon Hero of Ferelden). His immunity to the taint is something I'm considering exploring in a spin-off story, otherwise he had to have a natural resistance to avoid the same fate as Tamlen (which is canonically what happens if the Dalish Origin is not chosen).  
> Fen basically came to fruition because I didn't like how we don't have a mabari in Dragon Age Inquisition (unless you're Cullen in Trespasser).


	4. Prologue Act 3 Part 2: Two Hawkes and A Varterral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their new friend, Arven and Ashanne set out to help a familiar band of misfits from Kirkwall on their most recent quest.

The next day found the twins in the thrall of the Sabrae clan once again. Ashanne practiced leatherworking with Craftsman Ilen while Arven entertained the clan’s children with Fen, who had followed the elvhen twins from their campsite that morning. Arven could tell that something was on his sister’s mind as his eyes drifted over from time to time to the elvhen mage whom was being scolded for not paying attention - at least that’s what Master Ilen seemed to be chastising Ashanne for.

“Where did you find him?” One small girl asked, eyes wide in awe.

Arven smiled softly. “We were in the Coastlands, not far from the Waking Sea. Fen’s pack had been massacred by some rogue darkspawn. We took out the darkspawn and sealed the hole they used to crawl out of the Deep Roads. Afterward, we found one small pup hiding in the bushes near the cavern. He ran off, so we figured there must have been other wolves nearby, but he followed us all the way to the boat bringing us here to the Free Marches.”

The little girl’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe he thinks you’re his mama!”

“I highly doubt that.” Arven chuckled softly. “Fen probably saw us as a refuge after his real mother died.”

“Did you really fight darkspawn?!” one boy asked excitedly.

“I thought you said Fen’s pack was attacked by shemlen,” a voice intruded. “What’s this about darkspawn?”

Arven looked up to see Feris cocking an eyebrow at him with a playful smirk. “Did I say that?”

“Be careful da’len, this one is a trickster.” Feris turned and waggled his index finger at the gaggle of children.

“Does that mean you didn’t fight darkspawn?” the elvhen boy asked again with a tinge of disappointment.

Arven chuckled nervously. “Oh no, young one, my sister and I have fought plenty of darkspawn. It’s just, um…”

Arven tried to come up with a reason for his mistake, but he was interrupted by a loud commotion. All of the elves in the clan seemed to freeze, turning their gazes towards the entrance to the encampment.

The Dalish rogue followed their gazes and saw a group of people casually strolling into the camp. That wasn't such an unusual event, but the tension amongst the clan’s elves made the situation seem odd in his eyes.

“Who are they?” Arven asked Feris, never taking his eyes off the team of newcomers.

Feris followed his new friend’s eyes and sighed, “That, Lavellan, is the group of misfits that took our First to Kirkwall. See that girl there?” He pointed to the middle of the group, singling out an elvhen mage with dark hair. “That’s Merrill.”

“And the others?”

The warrior shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know all of them, but I think the two dark-haired humans are called Hawke. They're twins too.”

With a raised brow, Arven watched as Keeper Marethari greeted the team. Merrill, the small elf that Feris pointed out, looked very nervous. Judging by the gestures she and Marethari exchanged, Arven assumed she was trying to ask the Keeper for some favor.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Suddenly, Ashanne was standing between the two male elves. Her quick appearance startled Arven, and he jumped back slightly. “Dammit Ash, don’t just pop up out of nowhere.”

“It wasn’t out of nowhere. You were just so distracted that you didn’t notice her walking up,” Feris replied, chuckling at Arven’s reaction, which must have been _oh so amusing_ to watch.

“Shut up, Mahariel,” Arven grumbled. “It looks like Keeper Marethari is arguing with the First about something.”

“It probably has something to do with the eluvian,” Feris sighed.

The twins looked at their friend and Ashanne asked, “The one that killed Tamlen?”

Feris nodded. “Remember what I said last night? Merrill is obsessed with recovering that thing. She says it’s for the sake of the Dalish. That it could be key to regaining some of our lost heritage.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming,” Arven judged by the look in Feris’ eyes that there was more to the story, as usual.

The elf nodded. “But the mirror is dangerous. Merrill can’t repair it without taking exceptional risks.”

“Yet the risk is worth it, Mahariel,” a female voice sang.

Sometime while the three were talking, the group had reached a decision with the Keeper and began walking through the camp.

“Merrill!” Feris’ eyes widened, “I-I didn’t mean- ”

“It’s okay, lethallen, I understand the clan’s concerns,” Merrill replied, a slight darkness in her eyes. “You must know how important this is, both for the good of the clan and to gain an understanding of what happened.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand,” Feris sighed again. “I’m just afraid you’ll get yourself hurt. I already lost Tamlen; I couldn’t bear to lose another friend.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” Merrill gave a soft smile.

“Who are your friends, Merrill?” a tall woman with short, dark hair asked. It was the female of the siblings Feris called ‘Hawke.’

Merrill looked at her companions, seeming slightly flustered. “Of course! This is my friend, Feris Mahariel.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I trust you’ve been good to Merrill?” Feris gave a light smile to Merrill’s group.

“She’s been treated as well as we are capable of,” a male dwarf replied, “Kirkwall is a dangerous place regardless of where you’re from, but Daisy can keep after herself just fine.”

“Daisy?” Feris raised an eyebrow at the nickname.

“He gives nicknames,” a light-haired man with a Ferelden accent offered. “All of us have them.”

“Really?” the female Hawke spoke up. “Varric, you’ve never given Garrett nor I any special nickname.”

Arven assumed that ‘Varric’ was the dwarf’s name and ‘Garrett’ was her brother. It was the only explanation that made sense to him.

“I’ve tried, Gwen, but you Hawkes don’t exactly make it easy. Hawke just suits the two of you best,” Varric tried to explain, though Arven suspected he was conjuring up his reasons as quickly as they fell from his lips.

“Anyways,” Merrill spoke up once more, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you two.” She turned to the twins, ignoring the tense atmosphere between Varric and Gwen.

“You may just not remember us,” Ashanne replied. “We’re from Clan Lavellan. I’m Ashanne and this is my twin brother, Arven.” Arven answered his sister’s introduction with a courteous nod. “Our older brother Cyrril is our clan’s First.”

“Ah,” Merrill responded, “I’ve met your brother, though I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.”

“What are two Dalish elves doing so far from their clan?” the man named Garrett asked the siblings.

Arven cleared his throat. “We have our reasons. Garrett, was it?”

The man nodded. “The one and only. Garrett Hawke, at your service. This is my twin sister, Gwen.”

“This is the first time we’ve encountered twins outside of our family,” Gwen added with a polite smile. “These are our companions. You’ve obviously met Merrill. This brooding elf-”

“I am not brooding!”

“- is Fenris,” The girl finished with a sideways glace towards the dark-skinned elf.

“I am afraid you do come off as slightly brooding, Fenris,” Garrett chuckled, gaining a small smirk from another of their companions, the light-haired human.

“Ahem,” Gwen stared at her brother as if quietly saying _“May I continue?”_

“Right, sorry.” Garrett and the other human stepped back.

The female rogue sighed deeply. “My apologies. The smirking one is Anders and-”

“I’m Varric Tethras. Member of the Merchants’ Guild and occasional storyteller,” the deep-voiced dwarf replied before realizing that he had interrupted. “Sorry Gwen.”

“Maker’s breath, the four of you are just…” Gwen sighed with great exasperation.

“So,” Feris suddenly spoke up, “Where are you headed to, Merrill?”

Merrill smiled softly, as if relieved that her old friend had turned the attention back to the present situation. “I need to borrow something from the Keeper. She disagreed, so I invoked vir sulevanan. In exchange for the tool, we’re going to take care of the varterral.”

“Seriously? That thing has already killed three of our own!” the Dalish warrior argued, “It’s too dangerous!”

“That would be why she has us.” Garrett Hawke steps up.

Arven looked at Ashanne. “Do you think we should do something?”

His sister replied with a shrug. “It couldn’t hurt. I’ve never seen a varterral before.” A dark gleam in her eyes told Arven that there was more on her mind than simple curiosity.

The two elves stood up in unison, Fen held tightly to Arven’s chest. “Mind if we help out?”

The large group stared at the elvhen duo in shock. Clearly they weren’t expecting the twins to offer help. Nonetheless, the twins and Feris – who grumbled the entire way – joined the group, and they all headed for the cave network further up Sundermount with Fen padding alongside them. Arven and Ashanne found themselves talking to Varric, who told them about the Hawke family’s misadventures up until that point.

“Wait, did you really go into the Deep Roads?” Ashanne asked.

Garrett was the one who answered. “It’s not as glamorous as Varric makes it out to be, but yes. We went on an expedition to the Deep Roads, got betrayed by Varric’s older brother, and now Bethany and Carver – our younger siblings – are Grey Wardens.”

“A horrendous fate if you ask me,” Anders, who the twins learned was a former Grey Warden mage, chimed in. “But hopefully it will teach Carver some decency-- No offence, Garrett, Gwen.”

“None taken. An Order like the Grey Wardens should give him the honor he so craves,” Garrett chuckled.

“And yet nobody seems concerned for Bethany.” Gwen said softly.

“Beth is a mage, sis, she’ll be fine.” Her brother answered.

“And that makes it _so_ much better,” Fenris interjected, rolling his eyes. “Magic brings nothing but bad luck.”

“Yet here you are, adventuring with a group of mages.” Garrett smirked, throwing an arm around the lyrium-marked warrior. “How’s that for karma?”

“Considering our current situation, I have yet to see my theory disproved.”

“Ouch, that’s harsh,” Anders murmured, “and here I thought we were close.”

The banter between the group reminded Arven of Clan Lavellan’s hunters, which made him feel at home and slightly homesick at the same time. During the twins’ travels, Arven too often forgot about his days running through forests with his clan mates. Unfortunately, those memories were accompanied by moments of being compared to Cyrril. The clan’s older elves had often said under their breath that Arven could never compare to Cyrril’s leadership skills, mage or otherwise. Outside of his group of hunters and Ashanne, the Dalish rogue had never felt like he belonged amongst his clan.

“-rven…Hey! Snap out of it, Arven!”

The elf blinked. “Something wrong?”

Ashanne raised a brow at her dazed brother. “Is something up? I called your name three times.”

“Sorry,” Arven scratched behind his neck and looked up. “This the place?”

“Yes, the varterral should be further in. We should keep a look out for any signs of the hunters’ bodies.” Merrill’s eyes darkened at the mention of the deceased clan members and everyone entered the cave.

“Hey,” Ashanne murmured, pulling Arven’s forearm as he started to follow the group.

Arven glanced back at his female counterpart, “Is something wrong?”

Ashanne nodded her head slightly, “Keep a lookout. Something’s going to happen and not something we’re expecting.”

“You’ve been out of sorts all day,” Arven raised an eyebrow, “Did you have another vision?”

The female elf grimaced, “Yeah. Last night, and I don’t like what I saw. I have a very bad feeling about this cave.”

“Are you two coming or what?” Feris called out to the twins, who rushed to rejoin the team.

From the outside, the caverns looked like any other cave network, but Arven knew better. Makeshift railings showed paths that were most likely used by the elvhen clan and claw marks marked where there had been struggles. Despite how small the cave was in comparison to other areas – such as the ruins in Ferelden’s Brecilian Forest – Arven felt as if the group was wandering for hours. Now and again, one of the Hawkes came across a body or a trinket and Merrill would choke up, telling them about each hunter with no small amount of grief.

 _She truly cares for the clan,_ Arven thought with a soft smile. Clan traditions were forced into elvhen minds from a very young age, and as such it was thought that drifting from tradition meant that an elf’s curiosity was more important to them than the clan. Both Feris and Merrill experienced great tragedy, yet they didn’t ignore what had happened. Both elves wanted to know more for the clan’s sake as well as their own. Feris wanted to know of the taint, a dangerous ailment to all living beings. Merrill wanted to learn more of the cursed eluvian, an ancient artifact that she thought had the potential to restore some of their lost culture.

“Wait.” Gwen suddenly raised her arm in front of the group before glancing at her brother. Fen seemed to sense the tense atmosphere and began growling, despite being so young that his growl was hardly intimidating.

With a sigh, Garrett called out, “Alright, whoever’s there, you better come out. Unless you’re a dragon, then feel free to keep hiding.”

“Garrett!” Fenris scolded lightly, shoving him while Anders just chuckled at their rather sarcastic leader.

“Hello?” Another elf poked his head out from behind a support beam. He was lean and fair with the countenance of a Dalish hunter. However, Arven noticed that the elf did not have a vallaslin despite looking to be around the same age as himself. The elf smiled with relief. “Praise Andras – I mean Creators. I thought I’d never get out of – Merrill?”

The appearance of Sabrae’s First seemed to startle the elvhen hunter, as his eyes went wide and his shoulders rigid.

“Aneth ara, Pol,” Merrill greeted kindly. “Are you hurt?”

“Stay back!” the elf – Pol – shouted, “What do you want from me?”

“Pol, what’s wrong? I’m here to help!”

 _Shouting at him probably won't help, Merrill,_ Arven thought with a grumble as he and Ashanne watched the exchange. Out of the corner of his eye, the Dalish rogue noticed Ashanne staring stiffly at the frantic elf, who was now shouting at their companions about Merrill being dangerous.

“Wait, stop!” Ashanne suddenly shouted as Pol ran away.

Arven grabbed his sister’s upper arm before she could run after him. “Ash, what’s wrong?”

Ashanne lowered her voice. “This is what I saw last night. He’s going to die if we don’t do something.”

“We need to catch up to him.” Arven raised his voice as he and Ash started charging ahead. “He’s running further in. We don’t want to lose someone else to this creature.”

The group ventured further after the Sabrae hunter with Ashanne pushing slightly harder than the rest. Arven knew it was because she had the most certainty about what would happen if the group was too late.

“Pol! Stop!” Merrill shouted when Pol was in sight. He was just inside the large cavern where Feris had said the varterral would be.

“Stay away from me, monster!” Pol replied, backing away further.

Suddenly, a huge screech echoed throughout the cavern. A large shadow loomed over the terrified elf.

“No!” Arven turned to see Ashanne running towards Pol, grasping her ironbark staff and sending simultaneous blasts of magic towards Pol and the giant insect-like varterral. Everyone else followed suit, charging past the female twin to take down the monster. Feris and Fenris focused on distracting the varterral while the others flanked it from all sides. Gwen and Garrett focused on staying behind the beast, just outside its attack range so the two wouldn’t get sucked in by the thing’s attacks. Ashanne stayed back, kneeling by the unconscious elf’s side along with the little wolf pup.

Arven guarded his sister, preventing the varterral from attacking her. He kept his aim on the beast’s legs, trying to keep it unbalanced for the others to take down. Magic and arrows flew across the cavern for what felt like ages until the varterral was felled.

“Pol!?” Merrill came rushing over, falling down at his side, “Pol! Is he alive?”

“He’s alright,” Ashanne reported thankfully. “I was able to shield him before the varterral attacked. He’s just unconscious.”

Arven gripped Ashanne’s shoulder. She was shaking, and he could tell she had just barely managed to save Pol.

“So… _any_ idea why the elf was so terrified?”

“Shut up, Anders. Be thankful he’s alive.”

“Would you two stop? Geez, you sound like a married couple.” Gwen crossed her arms, eliciting a mumbled apology from both the former Grey Warden and the Tevinter slave.

Arven and Garrett worked together to get Pol back to the camp by slinging one of his arms around each of their shoulders. Merrill followed close behind, along with everyone else. At one point, Arven turned slightly towards Merrill and noticed her eyes were downcast, as if she were blaming herself for the events that had occurred in that cave.

“Ma serannas,” Keeper Marethari thanked the twins when they brought a Pol back safely, “Thank you for saving him. Pol is relatively new to our lifestyle. That makes him reckless. I feared he would meet the same fate as the others when he decided to go after the varterral himself.”

“It was no trouble,” Arven and Ashanne replied in unison.

Ashanne smiled, “I was just glad we managed to get to him in time.”

The twins stepped back as Merrill approached the Keeper about their deal. The two didn’t want to be caught up in the tense situation, so instead, they turned to the rest of their new friends.

“So, what are you going to be doing now?” Garrett Hawke asked the twins, his own twin staying with Merrill to help the deal run as smoothly as possible.

Arven and Ashanne exchanged glances and smiles. “Maybe stay around for a bit. I hear there’s a lot going on right now,” Ashanne replied.

“Are you staying here with the clan?”

Arven shook his head. “We have a campsite just south of the encampment. While the Dalish are very welcoming, we don’t normally stay in any place for too long.”

“That’s too bad.” A new voice entered the conversation. “I was hoping we could all hang out. Meet up at The Hanged Man or something.”

Ashanne chuckled, turning towards Gwen, “We still have unfinished business here, so we won’t be leaving quite yet.”

“Well then,” Varric cut in, “You should come visit us in Kirkwall. It’d be nice to hear about some of your journeys.

Gwen emitted a deep sigh. “Don’t listen to him, Varric just wants new material to either gossip or write about.”

The dwarf chuckled, smiling at her. “Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”

Arven noticed the slight wink Varric sent Gwen Hawke’s way.

The group chatted for a while, about anything and everything from Merrill’s deal with the Keeper to invites for the twins to come stay in Hightown with the Hawke family (to which they politely declined). Arven and Ashanne didn't return to their camp until around sun down.

 

“That was certainly interesting,” Arven huffed, quickly moving to light a small campfire.

Ashanne joined her brother. “We certainly met a colorful group of people. I'm so glad were able to save that poor elf. I found out from Marethari that he was raised in Denerim’s Alienage, joining the clan just before the eluvian incident.”

“No wonder he was being such a moron,” the male twin sighed, “Just because they don’t agree with what Merrill is doing doesn’t mean she’ll hurt them.”

“What _is_ she doing that’s so bad, I wonder.”

“Blood magic.”

Startled, the twins turned to see Feris carrying a large bundle.

Watching the elvhen warrior, Arven slowly asked, “What about blood magic?”

Feris set his pack down, joined the twins, and leaned back. “The clan’s problem with Merrill is that she’s dabbled in blood magic. You know the superstitions, right?”

Both twins nodded. Blood magic wasn’t necessarily evil, but the desperation  and dark desires that had led to the worst uses of blood magic had made the art more or less forbidden.

“Well, when Merrill started working on the eluvian she had to break the curse on it. In order to do that, she needed to extend her magic beyond its natural limits, which to my understanding is impossible without help. Since there was already tension between her and the Keeper, she decided to use blood magic to boost her abilities. Unfortunately, her decision didn’t exactly remain a secret. Now everyone forgets the reason behind Merrill’s actions because she used something that’s considered too dangerous to ever mess with.”

“Blood magic is terrifying,” Ashanne slowly agreed. “If used improperly it could kill you or someone else. It also makes mages more susceptible to possession.”

“Which is another thing everyone is afraid of, especially non-mages.”

Arven raised an eyebrow. “And all of this is because she wanted to try and learn more about our past?”

Feris solemnly nodded, petting the head of Fen, who had climbed into his lap at some point. After a few moments, he spoke up, “Actually, there’s another reason why I’m here.”

“Well, we sort of figured that,” Arven smirked.

Ashanne poked at the large bag at Feris’ feet. “What with this huge bag and all.”

The twins’ comments elicited a chuckle from Feris, “You two never miss anything, do you?”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t say anything, but we do try to stay as alert as possible. There’s only so much the two of us can do to fight off enemies during our journeys.”

“What if we made it three?”

Arven and Ashanne stared at Feris, who was now looking nervous and unsure. “What are you talking about, Mahariel?” Ashanne asked. Arven curiously waited for an explanation.

“This little trip with Merrill made me realize something,” the Dalish warrior began, “There’s only so much I can do here without the clan completely ostracizing me like they did Merril. I feel like if I want to learn more, then I need to seek out answers away from the clan’s prying eyes.

“If you’ll have me,” he continued, “I’d like to stay with you guys. At least until I get some answers.”

“You do realize this is no easy way to live, right?” Ashanne asked, exchanging a worried glance with her brother. “Leaving the clan takes enough guts, but what happens afterwards completely depends on our actions.”

“Coming with us means finding out things you may not be ready to know,” Arven added. “Not to mention, Ash and I have issues because we don't have vallaslin markings.”

“I’m fine with that,” Feris stated. “You guys are ranged fighters, right? I can keep whatever we encounter off your backs. As far as what I’m ready to know, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I want to gain more knowledge and I can’t do that with the clan breathing down my neck. Remember, many still blame me for Tamlen’s death.”

Arven thought about Feris’ request. It certainly made sense, especially in light of everything going on between the Sabrae Clan and Merrill. But Feris didn’t know why the twins were traveling, and Arven was unsure how he would react when he eventually found out.

“Got a tent in that thing?” Ashanne asked. Arven looked questioningly at her. She in turn sent a glance his way as if to say, _Got a problem?_

Feris seemed to be shocked too. He stared at Ashanne with his eyes wide and jaw slack, dumbly nodding, “I mean…yeah.”

“Well then,” Ashanne got up off the ground, Fen following her motion with a yip. “We’d better get our newest camp member’s abode set up.”

Ashanne’s words caused Feris to smile brightly. “I’m glad to be travelling with you.”

“Good to have you,” Arven smiled back as he gave Feris a light pat on the shoulder, “Now then, let’s get that tent up, shall we?”

The three elves quickly set up the new tent. The sun had finally set by the time the trio (plus an eager wolf pup who kept trying to steal the stakes) had the structure up and ready for occupancy. Arven wondered if by having not one but two new members of their little troupe, the twins might have a better chance of escaping Ashanne’s eventual tragic fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it! Part two of the third prologue chapter. If all goes to plan, the next should be the last of the prologue acts and then into Inquisition!  
> This act takes place in Act 2 of Dragon Age 2 and it's based on the Mirror Image quest, obviously with some of my own spins.  
> My decision to have twin Hawkes basically comes from three decisions. 1) My pattern of adapting most of the options in the Dragon Age series 2) My love for Bethany and Carver, despite how big of a jerk he is most of the time and 3) To be revealed later on  
> A quick note on Anders: I love Anders to bits, like his wittiness in Awkening and his banter in DA2 make me love him. I understand a lot of where his issues come from because I'm crazy about the lore of this series and did some research. As such, I try to portray more of his light-hearted side here because more of his anxiety shows in the next chapter (my poor baby has so many issues).
> 
> Next time in Those We Cherish: The twins have been in the Free Marches for a few years, choosing to stay behind and gather intel while helping the Hawke family deal with rising tensions in Kirkwall. Whether it's assisting a half-elf in overcoming demons or following the Hawkes as they investigate people searching for their family, Arven and Ashanne, along with Feris and Fen, are ready to help however they can.


	5. Prologue Act 4: Eve of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hawke siblings seek out Ashanne and Arven's help when the mother of a certain half-elf asks for help

The twins and Feris ended up staying in the Free Marches longer than expected, joining the Hawke twins and company on numerous trips, sneaking in and out of Kirkwall to avoid the Templars. Ashanne learned from Anders that the mages in Kirkwall’s Circle were suffering, particularly by a small sect of Templars. One of the trio’s misadventures was even helping out Anders and Garrett Hawke when Anders learned of a Templar forcefully performing the Rite of Tranquility on mages for anything he deemed a crime. During which, Ashanne learned of Anders’ connection with a spirit called Justice and how Justice was slowly corrupted by Anders’ distrust in Templars and desire for mages’ justice. Anders cared about the spirit, but he feared the way Justice made the mage lose control at times.

After the mage incident, the Hawke twins sought out the Lavellans’ camp again mere weeks later. A letter arrived at the Hawke estate asking Garrett and Gwen for help regarding Feynriel, a half-elf they helped a few years prior. Ashanne knew of the boy from Keeper Marethari, as the twins had been in the encampment when Feynriel first arrived. The surprise came when Gwen told the elves that Feynriel was in a coma, tortured by the nightmares caused by his stronger connection to the Fade.

“Is he a Dreamer?” Ashanne asked carefully, taking a drink of the tea offered to her by a young elf working at the Hawke Estate. The twins brought Ashanne and Arven to their home to avoid complications that might have risen should anyone overhear their conversation. They decided to bring Fen along, if only to keep the Hawke family’s mabari, Holt, entertained.

“That’s what Arianni, Feynriel’s mother, suggested to us,” Garrett grimaced, “Keeper Marethari confirmed it and has agreed to perform a ritual to help Feynriel.”

Gwen rested her chin on her hands, “The ritual requires us to go into the Fade. Some of our companions are going to be accompanying us.”

“Why call us then?” Arven asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, since Ashanne is a mage and you two have traveled a lot, we figured we’d ask for your advice,” Garrett shrugged his shoulders.

Arven dryly chuckled, “Well, both of you should count yourselves luckier than you expected.”

Gwen met the elf’s raised brow with one of her own, “What do you mean by that, Arven?”

Ashanne gave a soft smirk, “Because I’m the only one in the Free Marches with intimate knowledge on what Feynriel is going through.”

“Only one?” Garrett chuckled, “That seems to be a bit of a stretch.”

“Not when you consider that Dreamers are so rare that Feynriel is one of two alive to appear in two ages.”

“Marethari said Feynriel was the first in two ages,” Gwen retorted.

Ashanne chuckled dryly, “Well, I wasn’t about to admit to being one myself.”

“You’re a Dreamer!?” Gwen and Garrett shouted in surprise.

Ashanne nodded, “Though I don’t have the training to be called an expert.”

The elvhen mage got bombarded with questions by the human twins. She tried her best to answer their questions, especially those regarding how to save Feynriel and details of Marethari’s ritual, but informed them that even her information was limited because she _was_ the first Dreamer in ages. She told the Hawke siblings that she learned of her nature because she was raised practicing her magic with her clan’s Keeper and healers. She grew up in the Exalted Plains, where magic was strong and she found her way almost completely on her own fighting demons plaguing the war-scarred region. Feynriel wouldn’t even have that. He would have to find his own way, as she did, in order to survive.

“Keeper Marethari warned us that it would be likely that Feynriel wouldn’t be strong enough,” Garrett’s fists clenched, “She said we would have to kill him. Make him Tranquil.”

Ashanne placed a hand over Garrett’s fists, “Not if you convince him of his own strength. If it took Feynriel this long for his nature to cause these problems, then he _can_ master his talents.”

“Come with us then,” Gwen begged, “Even if you can’t train him, maybe the boy will be more convinced by another Dreamer.”

Ashanne nodded in agreement. Even if she couldn’t train the half-elf, she at least felt some responsibility. Traveling alongside Arven, Ashanne experienced the difficulties of being a mage outside of a clan or human Circle constantly. Regular untrained magic is dangerous, but untrained Dreamer mages are lucky to live very long at all. It didn’t help that the boy – neither human nor elf entirely – probably grew up without much trust in others.

“When will Keeper Marethari return?” her brother spoke from the seat beside her.

“Whenever we’re ready,” Gwen replied, “It looks like we made the right decision in waiting before jumping into danger.”

Garrett stood up, “I’ll send a message to Arianni. She’ll contact Marethari.”

“Who all is coming along?”

“Anders and Fenris are coming, if only for lover boy’s sake.”

“Gwen!” Garrett complained at his sister’s teasing tone. Ashanne smiled a bit, noticing the human mage’s ears take on a slightly crimson hue. After being around the Hawke siblings and their gang, Garrett always seemed to hover around the witty human mage and dry-humored elf. The two couldn’t stand one another, but they held back their arguments when he was around. At least, arguments that would insult even the laid-back Garrett Hawke.

“I’m pretty confident Varric is going to tag along, we just need to head down to Lowtown and make sure,” Gwen added, smirking at her brother’s embarrassment, “Sebastian refuses to participate because he feels like the Fade is no place for a man of faith and it would compromise his beliefs.”

“Riiiiiight,” Garrett exasperated, “His morals compromised by the Fade when you’re at his side.”

“Oi! Watch it, mage boy.”

“Either way, we feel pretty comfortable with you two in addition to the five of us. Maker, it feels like we’re spearheading an army just to save one man,” Garrett continued on, ignoring his red-faced twin sister. Ashanne feared that Gwen’s murderous glare alone was an army against Garrett or Varric. She didn’t know enough about Sebastian, seeing as the man was almost always holed up in the Kirkwall Chantry whenever the elvhen twins were around.

Leaving Fen and Holt in Leandra’s – the Hawkes’ mother – care, the four companions headed for Lowtown to find Varric. Lowtown was a decent place when you considered that the residents in the lower income neighborhood were only different from Hightown’s residents by status alone. Gwen told Ashanne that she and Garrett lived with their uncle in Lowtown when they first arrived in Kirkwall. Something about their uncle gambling away their mother’s assets, which the twins regained with the _small_ fortune they earned from their trip to the Deep Roads.

“Ugh, what is that _smell_?”

Garrett laughed as Ashanne scowled and pinched the bridge of her nose, “That, dear Ash, is the wonderful stench of drunkards and deception.”

“Not all of us are drunks and thieves,” a young woman garbed in pirate clothes sauntered up to the two, “I mean, I tend to be one or the other, but you already knew all that.”

Gwen raised an eye at the newcomer, “Good to see you again, Isabela. Still looking for that relic of yours?”

“I’ve almost tracked it down, Gwenny, promise,” Isabela said, smirking in a way that Ashanne could only describe as seductive and confiding.

“Arven, Ashanne, this is Isabela. Isabela, these are the elvhen twins, Ashanne and Arven Lavellan,” Garrett smiled and introduced the pirate girl and the twins.

Isabela looked the twins up and down in a way that was either measuring them up or undressing them with her eyes. Either way, the pirate girl’s gaze was rather unnerving.

“Stand down Rivaini, these are our friends, not your next victim,” Varric gave a smug smile from the top of the tavern stairs.

Ashanne couldn’t help but give her own smirk, “I’m sure she’d find that we don’t take fights sitting down.”

“Well now, I like you,” Isabela gave a grin, “Spirited, feisty, and beautiful to boot. Want to grab a drink?”

The elvhen mage chuckled dryly, “Maybe some other time, we have important business.”

“Oh, important is it? Do tell.”

With a sigh, Gwen steps in between the pirate and Ashanne, “It’s about Feynriel.”

“The half-elf? What of it? Did you recruit these two as well?”

“Originally, we just wanted some advice,” Garrett chimed in, “Turns out, these two may do a lot more than we can.”

Arven raised an eyebrow, “Either way, you guys are the ones handling the task. The boy knows you. We maybe saw him once or twice during a supply trip into the encampment.”

“Well then, on we go,” Ashanne huffed, sick of listening to the shems prattling about. She swiftly strode past her brother and the gaggle of humans, climbing up the stairs to meet the sarcastic dwarf, “Ready, Short Stuff?”

Varric grimaced with a raised eyebrow, “Really? Short Stuff?”

“You had it coming the minute you saddled us with nicknames,” Arven teased from behind his twin.

“I like it,” Gwen’s voice entered the fray with her and Garrett walking up the steps to join the trio, “It’s cute.”

Ashanne stifled a laugh at Varric’s expression. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to be insulted or flattered by her comment. The group quickly made way to Varric’s personal room at the corner of the tavern’s second floor.

“I take it we’re about to do the whole Fade thing, right?” Varric slumped down in his big wooden chair.

Garrett and Gwen nodded in unison and the group began preparing. After leaving the Hanged Man, the group of five met up with Fenris and Anders, who were apparently out looking for Garrett and Gwen themselves. They continued on, venturing into Kirkwall’s Alienage and meeting up with whom Ashanne assumed was Feynriel’s mother. The elvhen woman was of average height for an elf with red-orange hair pulled in a sharp bun.

“You’re back!” the elvhen woman’s face relaxed with what Ashanne would assume relief when she spotted the odd group.

Garrett and Gwen stepped up to the woman and nodded.

“We’ve brought what help we could,” Gwen began, “We’re ready for the ritual.”

Some minutes later, Keeper Marethari glided up to the group with a stride that reflected both her confidence as a Dalish elf and her worry for the young Dreamer. She addressed Arianni and then the Hawke twins. Her eyes moved past the team until they landed on the Lavellans.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We’re here to help, Keeper,” Ashanne responded, her fists tight behind her back, “Garrett and Gwen thought we might be of use.”

Keeper Marethari raised a brow, “I see,” then turned to the Hawke siblings, “Shall we begin?”

 

The Fade was always an odd experience for Ashanne. As a Dreamer, she felt a connection unlike any other inside the spirit realm. It was like a part of her that was suffocated outside the Beyond could finally breath.

The elvhen mage gradually took in her surroundings. The Fade tended to form in shapes reflective of the mage’s subconscious. The walls were human-made and the corridors were very orderly. Based on the architecture, Ashanne could tell that the building was part of Kirkwall because it was Tevinter architecture, but nowhere near as grand. After all, Kirkwall was once part of the Imperium itself.

“Where are we?” Arven asked, turning slowly in a circle. It was understandable, this kind of atmosphere was rare to anyone who spent most of their life surrounded by trees and the occasional ancient ruin.

“I think we’re in Kirkwall’s Circle. It’d make sense, since one of Feynriel’s fears is being contained to the Gallows,” Garrett replied, observing a nearby pillar. Ashanne faintly thought she saw the human mage chasing around a floating book.

Suddenly, a bright flash of blue light emanated from behind the group of siblings, “I had not thought to return in such a way. It is good to feel the breath of the Fade again, not the empty air of your world.”

Ashanne’s eyes widened, “Anders?” she and Arven had only encountered Anders one other time in this state, when the small group of Templars forcibly turned mages Tranquil.

Garrett shifted quickly towards the man, “Nope, I believe it’s Justice, right?”

“Anders has told you about me, I presume,” the strange, glowing Anders stated.

Fenris shook his head, “Don’t get too used to it, spirit.” He then walked ahead of the group. From exasperation? Worry? Ashanne didn’t know. She could never figure out whether Anders and Fenris hated each other or hated that they _couldn’t_ hate each other.

“I don’t envy you, mate,” Arven walked past Garrett, clapping one hand on the taller man’s shoulder.

Ashanne stifled a laugh. Garrett was probably the closest to the two men, so handling one possessed mage and one magic-hating elf was definitely a struggle in the most magic-intense realm possible.

“Okay boys, let’s get a move on,” Gwen interceded, driving everyone to move swiftly down the corridor.

After checking a few storage rooms and one hall of offices (several with strange piles of barrels the Ashanne couldn’t prevent herself from fiddling with), the group came upon a huge set of double doors.

“Wait,” Ashanne stuck a hand out. This was definitely where they needed to go, except... “Be careful, there’s something inside.”

“Hate to say this, but there’s always something inside,” Varric replied, grip tightening on his precious crossbow.

“What do you think it is, Ash?”

Ashanne looked at her twin, “A demon, most likely. Maybe multiple demons.”

“Well, that’s hardly a surprise. Let’s go,” Garrett charged full-speed ahead, entering a large room.

The group’s first encounter was Torpor, a sloth demon who wanted them to bring him Feynriel as a host. There was little hesitation in rejecting the demon, quickly dispatching it along with several shades – dark, clothed demons with no extraordinary abilities – before making way up one set of stairs.

The group’s encounters with Feynriel were tricky to say the least. Ashanne was able to sense the trial up ahead through her enhanced Fade sensitivities and warn the Hawke siblings of the possible challenges ahead, for the human twins alone would be allowed in the vision with Feynriel. Their first encounter was a desire demon, Caress, who tried to tempt the half-elvhen mage with visions of his father, an Antivan merchant who rarely had anything to do with the boy. When Feynriel realized that his father was really a demon, Caress turned her eyes on the group itself. Without a willing companion to tempt, she opted for a direct assault. The group sprang into action with Garrett and Ashanne focusing on the demon while the others kept away some nasty shades that popped up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Garrett spoke as a final cone of ice took down the desire demon, “How is it that a healer mage can be so good at fighting? Doesn’t your clan keep you in the encampment?”

Ashanne considered how to answer his question as the group fell back the way they came. She didn’t want to tell the human how many nights she spent sneaking out to practice offensive magic in case of an attack. She also really didn’t feel like explaining why she felt the need to be able to defend herself because it would eventually reveal the nature of her strange magic.

“Arven and I have been on our own for a few years,” Ashanne opted for the vaguest answer she could think of as they began crossing the large foyer, “It’s too dangerous if only one of us can go on offense, so I picked up a few things.”

“Hmmm,” Garrett hummed as the team fought a rage demon. Ashanne knew that the human mage had some healer abilities himself, but he also grew up differently. She was raised to be a perfect healer, calm, patient and helpful (and boy did it make her skin crawl at times). Garrett was an apostate mage who saw danger at every turn, it was no wonder that he needed both healing magic and offense tactics.

Arven raised a brow at the elder twin, no doubt wondering why she didn’t just be honest rather than tell a lousy half-truth.

“It’s better we don’t pull them in any further,” Ashanne murmured in answer, “Especially since we’re in a precocious situation as is with raging Templars in Kirkwall and overprotective Dalish just beyond our campsite.”

“What do you reckon is beyond here?” Varric’s voice echoed as the group came upon the second hall.

Ashanne cocked her head, reaching out to run her hands along the illusionary door, “Another trial. Something to do with…pride? Be careful you two.”

The Hawke twins when in and faced the next trial, one in which the demon posed as Keeper Marethari herself. Once Feynriel was convinced of the truth and escaped, the demon revealed itself as Wyrm, a very powerful pride demon. He turned his dark, shimmering eyes at Fenris. The demon lured him with the promise of power, enough to best the magisters that enslaved him. Ashanne watched the former slave as he changed from complete refusal to hesitance.

“Fenris,” Anders whispered, his real voice breaking through Justice’s takeover, “You can’t trust him.”

Garrett reaches out to grasp the elf’s wrist, “If you do this, you are no better than the magisters.”

The conflicted man turned to the siblings and the Grey Warden mage, “But…To face them as an equal, I…” he slowly turned to the demon, “What would you want from me?”

“A moment of your time, nothing more,” the demon replied, voice low and smooth.

Just like that, Fenris turned against the group as the fight with Wyrm began. As Ashanne fought off an elvhen ghost, she watched as Fenris’s spirit disappeared after a blow from Gwen’s daggers.

Ashanne turned to look at the two human males. Garrett sighed, as if afraid that something like this was going to happen. On the other hand, it seemed like Anders had receded and let Justice regain his weird spirit-like control thing. Hey, the woman may be a mage, but not everything magical actually made sense to her.

With a brief gaze of concern for her own twin brother, Gwen sheathed her daggers, “Let’s go and get Feynriel out of this freak show,” and promptly began to walk in the direction of the main hall.

Feynriel stood in the middle of the hall, turning around with a dazed look on his face.

“Here’s where we need you, Ashanne,” Gwen muttered and the Hawkes started towards the half-elf. Ashanne hurried to keep up with them, trotting swiftly down the marble-like stairs while the others trailed close behind.

“I’m not sure if this is even real. If so, this is the second time I’ve owed you my life,” Feynriel looked around, aware for the first time of the place and his situation. He spoke of how different things felt and how he could see small seams so clearly it was as if he could wake up at any moment. Ashanne was sure this was because he was no longer being tempted by those demons.

“You have to master this power, Feynriel,” Garrett spoke first, “We believe it is possible.”

“Dreamers control the Fade,” Ashanne stepped up, glancing at the twins, “as well as the dreams of the people in it.”

Fear crept behind the half-elf’s eyes, “I can see why the Chantry fears us,” he started, “I’ve heard tales of magisters who stalked their enemies and used their own dreams to destroy them.”

This, of course, was indeed the reason Dreamers were not well-known. They were the most powerful among regular mages, and as with nearly all magic, some mages in Tevinter have found ways to perverse it.

“Be better than them, Feynriel,” Ashanne reassured him with an encouraging smile, “I know I have.”

Feynriel’s eyes widened, “Then you – you’re a…?”

The female mage responded with a nod, leading Feynriel to become silent for a few moments.

“You’re right. I must master it, find someone to study under,” he looked at Ash for a moment, “You learned how to, but you must have learned as I will have to.”

“The Dalish simply do not have the tools,” Ashanne admitted, sharing an understanding glance with her brother and the Hawkes.

“Perhaps Tevinter. If these powers can be trained, it would be there,” Feynriel decided, “Though my mother would not look kindly on such a journey,” he turned to the twins, “Can you give her my farewell?”

Gwen nodded, “May the Maker guide your path.”

Feynriel turned around, focusing his strength, “Perhaps there is a way out of this. I can do this,” and he opened the exit for all of them.

The remaining team faded after him, returning to the real world with the news.

 

When the group returned with news, Feynriel’s mother decided she wanted to return to the clan. Marethari welcomed her with open arms, claiming that she was the one who stayed away and they would never abandon their own so easily. This caused a leery glance from the Lavellan twins, who knew the truth about how easy it was to be abandoned by the clans if there were too many mages. Of course, Arianni wasn’t a mage so she had nothing to worry about.

“Feynriel has left elsewhere to train. There is no one in Kirkwall to help him,” Gwen solemnly reported, quickly glancing at Ash but not lingering long. The elvhen twins found that the Hawkes and their companions were quite understanding about the older twin’s desire to keep her nature hidden for the time being, and they didn’t even know about her visions. Normal mages were already in a bad enough situation in Kirkwall, let alone apostates (which Ashanne might as well be outside the clans) with rare and powerful magic.

Garrett gave a soft, slightly uncharacteristic smile, “He asked us to say goodbye.”

Arianni was torn by the news, determined to find him before he left. Of all people, Keeper Marethari was the one to stop her. She vocalized the same reasons Feynriel came to about needing guidance and Kirkwall not having what he needs, as Arianni was sure to have tried to stop her son.

Marethari then turned to the group, “I truly did not think what you did was possible. You are rare humans, indeed.”

Fenris watched Garrett carefully, “I must apologize for my weakness. I would have thought myself above such influence.”

“I find there’s nothing like being possessed to keep you on the straight-and-narrow,” Anders spoke smugly, obviously trying to distract the poor man despite his own discomfort at Justice taking hold.

“You have performed a miracle today,” Marethari spoke up, holding a book in her hand, “This book belonged to the last Dreamer of our tribe. It has rare magic, beyond price,” she held it out to the human twins, “Please accept it with my gratitude.”

With that, the Keeper left to return to her camp, as staying too long in the city was a risk she was not willing to take. Arianni thanked the Hawke twins and left to pack for her move to Sundermount, eager to return to her clan despite the loss of her son.

“Thank you, Ash,” Gwen spoke up as the group headed toward The Hanged Man, “Maker knows how that would have gone without you two.”

With a raised brow, the mage chuckled, “You would have been fine. The two of you were there for Feynriel when he was kidnapped and you’re clever.”

“We didn’t know what to do, though,” Garrett countered, “I didn’t even know such magic existed, and our father was a very talented mage.”

“Be that as it may,” Arven spoke up, ever the voice of reason, “Feynriel is confident enough to pursue his talents instead of shun them. He is strong and will survive.”

The four smiled, chuckling at their seeming argument over who can out-compliment the other as they made it to the familiar tavern.

“While we’re all together,” Varric suddenly spoke up, “I heard something very interesting that you two might want to hear, Hawke.”

“Lead the way,” the humans spoke in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long this took me to post! I've been working on this for almost three months, but life and school got in the way. My original plan was to group Feynriel's quest and the Legacy DLC into one final chapter covering DA2, but then I started having fun and decided to divide them (again). In addition, the twins and Feris will only be staying until the end of Act 2, as the Legacy story is immediately after this chapter.  
> As always, there are some things I leave out on purpose. In the case of DA2, it's because we do see Varric and the Hawke twins in Inquisition so it opens up much more to develop with them later on.  
> The chapter is my take on the Night Terrors quest from Act 2. For anyone wondering, Wyrm will always tempt the members in this order: Merrill, Fenris, Varric. That's why Fenris was tempted, but not Verric. Also, Torpor only matters with Merrill (unless you deal, then Anders with fight you). Caress tempts Isabela and Aveline (almost put Isabela in this one, but it didn't really add much).  
> I am trying to develop a real posting schedule. My hope is that I'll be able to post monthly, but it may be every other month depending. In the meantime, I should be able to update my modern Thedas fic, There Are No Words, in between updates for this story so feel free to check out that one! It has the same cast as this story, so you'll meet characters that won't be introduced for awhile there.  
> Finally, if you like the story feel free to leave kudos and/or bookmark it. Also, I would love to hear from you guys! I have a lot of fun with my characters, and I'd love to get your input.


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